


Damn Cute

by sahiya



Category: White Collar
Genre: Animal Transformation, Gen, Humor, Neal has blue eyes in any form
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-21
Updated: 2013-07-21
Packaged: 2017-12-20 20:48:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/891696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sahiya/pseuds/sahiya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Neal is transformed into a puppy. A damn cute one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Damn Cute

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elrhiarhodan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elrhiarhodan/gifts).



> Thanks to Fuzzyboo for beta reading!

For the first forty-five years of his life, crazy things didn’t happen to Peter Burke. Then he took Neal’s deal, and from then on it was nothing but Nazi subs and dirty senators and way more excitement than anyone in the white collar division had any right to expect. 

But _this_? This really took the cake. This was Neal Caffrey. As a _puppy_.

He was, of course, a beautiful puppy, because Neal Caffrey would never be anything else. He was black, some sort of shepherd or shepherd-lab mix, with giant ears and paws, and an adorable white belly. And blue eyes, of course. Caffrey wouldn’t be Caffrey in any form without blue eyes. 

“This is going to be a problem,” Peter told him.

***

In the short-term, actually, it wasn’t that much of a problem. Peter told his new boss that Neal was sick and took him home to his house. Fortunately, Satchmo liked other dogs. He and Neal circled each other in the living room, sniffing each other in unmentionable places, while Peter tried to figure out who you called when your CI and best friend turned into a dog. 

He also might’ve taken a picture of Neal sniffing Satchmo’s butt. Some opportunities were just too good to pass up. 

He finally called El to get Mozzie’s latest number, because somehow, she always had it. “Is something wrong?” she asked. Peter hesitated. He didn’t want to lie to El, but how could he possibly explain? But then the silence went on too long, and El asked, with a note of suppressed anxiety in her voice, “Peter, just tell me.”

“Neal got turned into puppy,” Peter blurted. 

There was a moment of silence, and then El cracked up. Peter thought she was laughing at him, until she said, “Oh, this is I have to see. I’m on my way home. I’ll text you Moz’s number.”

***

Moz took one look at Neal, who was sprawled in El’s lap on the sofa having his tummy rubbed while Satchmo looked on enviously, and vented a sigh. He took his glasses off and started polishing them. “It’s his own fault, you know,” he said. 

“Wait, has this happened before?” Peter asked.

“Not often,” Mozzie said, “but yeah. You see, Neal is cursed.”

Peter’s eyebrows shot up. “Cursed?”

“That’s what I said, Suit. Cursed. I warned him, but Neal never listens. He took something he shouldn’t have.”

Peter crossed his arms over his chest and eyed Moz dubiously. “Story of his life, isn’t it?”

“Not quite,” Moz said. “This was different. He stole from the wrong person. Someone with special . . . abilities.” He sighed. Neal got up and scampered over to see him, and he knelt down to scratch Neal behind the ears. “You have no sense of self-preservation at all, do you?” he said, ruffling Neal’s fur. Neal panted at him, his blue eyes bright. 

“So what causes it, then?” El asked, pushing herself to her feet. “Is there a trigger? Any way to turn him back?”

Moz shook his head. “It’ll happen when it happens. Sometimes it lasts hours and sometimes it lasts days. You might want to keep some clothes on hand, though,” he added. “He wakes up, so to speak, _au naturale._.”

“Great,” Peter sighed. 

***

Peter had forgotten what it was like to have a puppy in the house. Satchmo was ten years old now. He wasn’t interested in chewing on things, had to be talked into playing fetch, and never peed where he wasn’t supposed to. Neal, on the other hand, was a bundle of energy with a very small bladder and a less than stellar sense of when he should ask to go out. It was hard to stay mad at him, though, when he saw any lap as an invitation for snuggles. 

Neal the human was extroverted and charming. Neal the puppy was an attention whore. 

“Smile,” El said. Peter looked up just in time for her to snap a photo of Peter rubbing Neal’s fluffy white belly. She smiled in satisfaction. “That one’s going on the mantle next to the prom picture.”

***

The original plan had been for Neal to sleep downstairs with Satchmo. They didn’t have a second dog bed, but they made one up using some old blankets and pillows. But the light hadn’t been out in Peter and El’s room for more than ten minutes before there was a soft scratching at the door. Peter ignored it, but then there was a quiet, almost polite whimper, followed by more scratching. The second time around, the whimpering was less polite. 

El sighed. “Peter, let’s just let him in. It’s not like we _actually_ have to worry about teaching him good manners.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” Peter muttered, but he rolled out of bed and opened the door to let Neal in anyway. Neal bee-lined for the bed and gave El enthusiastic puppy kisses while Peter, grumbling, climbed back under the covers. He tried to push Neal toward the foot of the bed, but Neal wasn’t having any of it. He sprawled out full-length, wedging his small body between Peter and El’s. 

“You’d better not remember any of this, Caffrey,” Peter said, as he turned off the light again. 

Neal’s only reply was a soft snuffle.

***

Of course, Neal changed back at the worst - or at least the most embarrassing - possible moment. One moment Peter was sound asleep with an armful of puppy, and the next he was wide awake with a much _larger_ armful of Neal. 

Peter almost fell off the bed in shock. Then he realized that Neal was not only in their bed, he was very, very naked. “Jesus,” he said, as he and Neal struggled to disentangle themselves from each other. 

“What’s going - oh.” El blinked at them sleepily. “Hi, Neal.” 

“Why am I in your bed?” Neal asked, sounding genuinely baffled. 

“You were a puppy,” El said. She propped herself up on one arm. She was not, Peter noticed with some irritation, making any effort to avert her eyes from Neal.

“Oh,” Neal said. “Um . . . sorry?”

Peter threw him a pair of sweatpants. “Don’t be. Just put those on.”

Neal stood and pulled the sweatpants on. “I’ll just, um -”

“The guest room is yours,” Peter said, climbing back into bed. “We’ll talk in the morning, all right?”

“All right,” Neal said uncertainly. 

“You’re not in _trouble_ ,” Peter told him. “I’m just too tired to talk right now. Get some sleep.”

Neal nodded and closed the door behind him.

***

“So . . .” Neal said the next morning, when he joined Peter on the porch with his cup of coffee.

“So,” Peter agreed, folding up his copy of _The New York Times_.

“Thanks for looking after me,” Neal said. Peter didn’t think he’d ever seen Neal look so blatantly embarrassed. “I hope I wasn’t too much trouble.”

“Nah,” Peter said, deciding not to mention that he’d peed on the kitchen floor. “I take it you don’t remember much?”

Neal shook his head. “I never do.” He snuck a glance sideways at Peter. “You’re really not mad?”

Peter shrugged. “What is there for me to be mad about? Whatever you did, it’s over and done with, and it’s not like you’re not being punished for it. It was inconvenient, I guess, but it wasn’t dangerous. You were -” Peter grimaced “- cute.”

Neal grinned. “How cute?”

“Damn cute,” Peter said, glaring. “You were damn cute, Caffrey. Is that what you want to hear?”

“Yup,” Neal said. His grin faded after a moment, and he caught and held Peter’s gaze. “Seriously, though, Peter. Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” Peter said, and stood, paper in hand. He ruffled Neal’s hair on his way past, and tried not to think about how much softer his fur had been. “Really,” he added, over his shoulder. “Don’t mention it.”

Neal’s very human laughter followed him inside.

_Fin._


End file.
